


Soft

by notimetoblog



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Fluff, F/M, bucky fluff, fluffy fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 20:43:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16899567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notimetoblog/pseuds/notimetoblog
Summary: A more sure and confident Bucky, enjoys the softness in life.





	Soft

**Author's Note:**

> HI! Another tumblr repost of a story of mine :) Thank for reading!! Hope you enjoy it!

Looking at himself in the mirror it was hard to recognize himself. There he was, staring straight ahead in his lowly lit room at a figure that seemed to mimic his movements. His hand almost instinctively reached up to push his long hair back, a habit that was yet to be broken. He had done what had, for many years, seemed impossible. His long locks had been shortened, a look that almost reflected what he used to look like before the war, before the fall, before the pain. Yet his hand seemed to not understand that there were no longer long strands of hair to fight and throughout the day he had often found himself slicking his hair back as if the strands still fell on his face. 

It had almost felt like looking back in time when he first caught sight of his much shorter hair. Almost as if the Bucky that had once existed was looking back at him after so many years of being hidden behind harshness and pain. But he knew that although he was once again allowed to decide for himself, knew that even though his decisions were once again respected, that old Bucky was not all back. 

He had changed. 

Changed after so many years of a torturous experience. Changed so much so that the small decision to cut his hair, which to many might seem mundane, filled him with pride. The ability to freely express himself, even if it was just through a haircut, meant more to him than he ever thought possible. So, there he was, staring back at his still unfamiliar reflection, gathering his thoughts before showing the rest of the world what had he had decided to do. 

Normally, he would hide in his room during nights like this. He chose to stay away form large gatherings where people could so easily stare and judge him from a far. Chose not to indulge at events where he could so easily become a target for gossip and harsh remarks. But his newly found empowerment, that came from a haircut of all places, caused a new feeling to spread throughout his system. 

He could do this, he thought to himself. 

He was more than capable of facing the crowd that was surely excited to catch a glimpse of the team. After all, a gala being held in their honor was something to be proud of. This wasn’t another Stark party, it was a gala being held at the Met to celebrate the efforts and victories of the team in their effort to save the world. And Bucky had been invited, he was being recognized as part of the team of superheroes he called friends. No longer was he being seen just as Captain America’s troubled friend. No longer was he just an afterthought, but he had been given his own proper invitation. His name and title had been elegantly scrawled on the invitation. And he knew Steve had also been proud of this as he had handed the small envelope to him with a large smile, almost beaming at the way the golden ink sparkled in the light.

Bucky looked around his room, knowing it was time to start getting ready for the event. He saw the tux he had chosen laid out neatly on his bed. He also found the shoes he had picked out, patiently waiting for him on the small loveseat by the window. His crispy white shirt and black bowtie rested next to his tuxedo. 

He felt a small smile appear on his lips as he realized this was yet another way in which he was expressing his freedom. Gone were those constricting leather jackets they had once forced him to wear. Instead, he now let his fingers run across the soft blue velvet of his tux. Felt the way the material felt soft under his touch. No longer was he forced to wear a mask that limited his breathing or goggles that blocked his sight. He now chose to wear an elegant black silk bowtie that would not hurt him, that would not prevent him from breathing freely, but something that looked graceful, sophisticated, and soft. 

Soft, he thought while looking again over his chosen attire. Not harsh or threatening, but soft. 

He would’ve never chosen a velvet tux. Never in a million years would he ever think to pick such a material to wear. And despite knowing very well what had influenced his decision, he chose not to focus too much on it because the sound of her voice in his mind would surely bring back all the nerves, he was doing so well of keeping at bay. Her voice was usually soothing, something that kept him grounded, a friendly reminder that there was still good in the world. But tonight, was different. Tonight, she was going to see what he had chosen for himself. She would take a look at the person he wanted to be. The man he kept hoping would be enough for her. Because despite the obvious feelings in his chest, he had yet to voice them. But tonight, he was determined to use the power he felt coursing through his veins, to let her know just how much of his heart was hers. His found sense of independence, he hoped, would guide him to find the perfect set of words to convey the light she had brought into his life. 

He quickly discarded his sweatpants, carefully stepping into the smooth pair of midnight blue trousers he had chosen to compliment his tux jacket. Trying not to wrinkle his dress shirt too much, he glided his arms into the sleeves, buttoning the shirt up, a delicate movement he was surprised his metal hand was capable of doing effortlessly. Tucking in his shirt he knew the toughest part was next; the dreaded tying of his bowtie. He hardly ever wore them in the 40’s, always preferring the look of a regular necktie when out with dates, or as mandated by the guidelines of his uniform. Bowties had lost favor in his day, men often attracted more towards ties and all the colors they offered. This all meant that when it came to tying a bowtie, all his knowledge came from the internet; another thing he was not the most fluent in. 

Its just a piece of fabric, he thought to himself. How much of an obstacle could it be?

30 minutes later he discovered just how much of a nightmare that silky accessory could be. He had lost count of how many times he had tied, loosened, and retied that stupid bowtie. No matter how hard he tried to follow the steps on the video it seemed the bowtie had other plans for itself. Determined to make Bucky give up on it and leave it alone it, it simply flopped about looking more like a dead fish than Bucky ever hoped it would look like. 

Reaching for his phone, his finger hovered over the only contact he knew might be able to help him during this trying time; the bowtie obviously bringing out the dramatic flare he sometimes lacked. 

Do you know how to tie a bowtie? He simply wrote. Content spreading through him as he heard the swoosh of the message confirming it had been sent. 

A few seconds later came the response. 

No, sorry. But Y/N tied mine last time! Text her, she’ll help you. 

So much for Captain America saving the night, Bucky thought as he read the reply of his friend. He couldn’t text her, though. The bowtie was not going to ruin his plans for the night. So he looked through his contacts again, finding Sam’s number, a light chuckle escaping his lips as he saw the picture he had assigned for Sam’s contact. It was Sam almost falling over on a chair after sleep had claimed victory over him. His mouth was wide open, and Bucky had entertained himself as he threw little balls of paper in the hopes of making a basket in Sam’s mouth.

He sent Sam the same text and much to his dismay, he received a similar answer. 

Y/N’s your girl for that whole bowtie tying thing. Saved my ass a few weeks ago. I came *this* close to actually using a clip on! could’ve lost my reputation as the best dressed among you clowns. So just ask her. you know she’ll help. 

Bucky stared at the crumpled bowtie in his hand. Surely, he wasn’t going to let it overpower him. It was his night; the night where he decided what would happen. And yes, this was a change in plans, but he would have to make-do. After all, his hair had been cut, his tux had been chosen, his mind had been made. 

Do you know how to tie a bowtie? He wrote, yet again, this time to the one person he was not expecting to talk to so early in the night. 

Yes, came her almost immediate response. Need help?

Please. 

In record time there was a knock on his door. Smoothing over his shirt, and almost glaring at his hand for coming up to push back his previously long hair, he slowly approached his door. Taking a deep breath, he opened, jaw nearly hitting the floor as he took her beauty in. 

There she was, dressed like an absolutely princess in a gown that not-coincidentally matched the blue of his tux. Her hair was up, perfectly framing the lovely features of her face. He tried his best not to let his eyes wander as much as they hoped to across her figure. In his attempt to restrain himself, he missed the way her own eyes took in his brand-new appearance. The way her eyes danced across his face as she noticed his sharp line that was no longer hidden behind long strands of hair. 

“Your hair,” she softy whispered bringing him back to reality as he suddenly remembered that he must look so different to her. He had been so captured by her essence that he had completely forgotten about his own appearance. 

“Did it today,” he confirmed. 

“It looks,” she paused, the loud beat of his heart the only thing filling the silence that hung in the air. “You look so handsome, B,” she finally said, eyes shyly looking down at the floor. 

A proud smile spread across his lips. The way she had so softly complimented him had filled his heart in ways only she was capable of. 

She carefully brought up her gaze again, expectantly waiting for him to let her into his room to help him with his bowtie. 

Silently he stepped aside, clearing a path for her to enter. 

She stood in her gown, directly in front of the mirror he had been taking in his new reflection almost an hour prior. A beautiful sight, he noted. One that he would forever treasure in his mind. Already she was the highlight of a night that hadn’t even begun. 

He found the bowtie he had abandoned on his bed when she knocked on his door and wordlessly handed it to her. 

As she followed his movement, though, she caught sight of the tux jacket that was still laying on his bed, undisturbed. 

He heard as she quietly gasped, slowly moving towards his bed to run her fingers across the jacket, much like he had done. 

“Bucky,” she said through a smile, “It’s so soft.”

The glint he saw in her eyes made it clear she knew just why he had picked this particular tux. Just a few weeks ago, he had heard her comment on this trend. Talking to Wanda, she had casually mentioned just how soft the material looked, how nice it would be to touch. Her comment had been heard loud and clear by Bucky. The picture of her running her fingers across his tux, a vision he hoped to one day see materialize. And there it was. 

“I love the color,” she said playfully. “So much, in fact, that look, we match.”

He felt himself smile once more, something that came to him so effortlessly around her. 

“But I’m here to help you with this bowtie,” she glanced down at the bowtie that she now held. “Such a tiny piece of fabric can be such a pain, huh?”

He nodded, his vocal chords unwilling to stir the air that only her voice was filling.

She walked back to the mirror then, stretching out her hand for him to take and join her. Gently she raised the collar of his shirt. The softness of her fingers almost making him sigh as he felt them brush against his neck. An act so simple yet made so much more special because it was coming from her. 

She was so close to him, the sweet smell of her perfume filling his senses. Her eyes looked up to him and he swore he could get lost in their depth. Those eyes that for so long had held him captive, not against his will but with kindness and softness, were so close to him and he had to try his best to remain calm. He had to restrain himself from acting too soon, from scaring her away with the weight of his feelings. She was so close and every inch of him begged him not to let her wander too far from him ever again, every thought in his head only contained her; her voice, her smile, the way she was so gently working the tie around his neck, the way her hand would brush against his neck, and the way he reacted to her touch. 

The bowtie was now draped over his neck, and he caught a glimpse in the mirror of how one side seemed to be longer than the other, just like in the countless of videos he had seen. She crossed the longer side over the shorter end, tucking it under and draping it over his shoulder after bringing it out. Her fingers carefully folded the shorter side and already he saw the shape of the bowtie. It seemed even the bowtie understood just how amazing she was. It was compliant under her fingers, enjoying the way they glided across the material just as much as Bucky was. She reached over to his shoulder to bring the end she had draped there, fingers brushing against him again. She brought it down, folding the shorter end in half. And maybe it was Bucky’s fault, her closeness clouding his mind and making him lose himself in the ways he could just wrap her arms around her and bring her even closer. But the next thing he knew, she was pulling at the sides of the perfect bowtie she had just tied. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she tried to smooth away imperfections only visible to her eyes. 

She reached towards his collar and brought it down, a smile on her lips, those lips he had dreamed of for so long. The lips that had been so kind; gentle and soft words pushing past them as she spoke to him. Her hands then ran across the top of his shoulders, smoothing out his shirt before taking a step back. Already Bucky missed her closeness, her warmth. His eyes followed as she walked towards his bed and reached for his jacket. She brought it close to her chest, smiling again as she felt the softness of it on her skin. 

Stepping behind him, he let his arms into the sleeves of the jacket, feeling as she brought it up to help him into it. 

“There,” she whispered as she stepped in front of him again. “You really do look so handsome, Bucky.”

He thanked his lowly lit room for not making it too obvious just the way her words affected him. If the heat he felt on his cheeks was any indicator, his cheeks must be burning red. 

His gaze dropped to see the way she was letting her fingers run up and down his sleeves, leaving little trails of a darker shade of blue on the velvet. Her eyes wandered up his arms as her fingers followed their random little paths. Her gaze continuing up choosing to focus on his newly cut hair. 

She reached up to his hair, fingers forgetting about the velvet for a second, before catching herself and letting her hands drop at her side. 

“Your hair looks soft too,” she offered in a soft whisper.

Perhaps she had chosen to let her hands drop as he reached up to his hair, or maybe she thought she was pushing too hard, too fast on a boundary Bucky was not yet willing to break down. But he was well aware of the choices he was making tonight. Everything, from the color of his tux to the words he hoped he spoke tonight were choices he was making to get closer to her. 

So, his next choice seemed only obvious. 

Reaching out his own hands towards her, he saw the surprise reflected in her eyes. He softly ran her fingers across her jaw, taking in with nothing but happiness the way a sigh pushed past her lips and the way her eyes closed at his touch. As if part of a dance, her hands reached up again following Bucky’s lead. Fingers once again tracing patterns up his arms. 

Slowly her touch inched upwards until her hands rested gently on his shoulders. Just as hers was going up, his dropped to her waist, softly letting his arms wrap around her just like he had been hoping to for so long. The material of her dress was also soft, enchanting him. Making his whole being feel warm.

Her scent wrapped around him as he brought her closer, and he felt his own eyes close as her arms wrapped around the back of his neck, fingers caressing the base of his neck, a place his long hair used to once hide. 

Everything about tonight seemed to have led to this. This moment in time where the girl of his dreams was in his arms. Where he felt confident enough to let her know how much of a difference she had been in his life. Show her how much her kindness and warmth had helped him leave behind his troubled past. Not just by forgetting about it, but by learning from it. Her soft voice had been his guide, and now here she was. Dressed in a gown made of soft clouds and he, dressed in a soft velvet her fingers couldn’t stop from running across. 

He looked into her eyes, once more. Trying to find any sign of her wanting this to stop. Desperately hoping he wouldn’t wake up only to realize this had all been a dream. But the way her fingers still ran across the base of his neck, the way he felt the goosebumps raise across his body, told him even this was too good to be a dream. His subconscious would be unable to dream up such perfection. 

Somehow his room had taken up this magical aura, one that made everything seem possible, everything seem softer. He looked into her eyes, again, needing to make sure before finally closing the distance between them with a soft kiss. His lips molded to hers perfectly. Made just for hers without a doubt.

He hadn’t spoken the words he had hoped, but every ounce of what he hoped to say was poured into that kiss. That soft, tender kiss, that proved how so much more could be said in the unsaid.


End file.
